


Something About A Mask

by autisticatboy



Series: Swerve and his "Scientist" [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, if this seems disjointed its because it is, not a lot of context to it but like. slight. very slight, slight spoilers for lost light???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 14:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20448455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticatboy/pseuds/autisticatboy
Summary: You would think, for a pair of Conjunx Endura, that they'd know all the other's secrets by now. Or at least, that they'd both have seen the other's entire face.





	Something About A Mask

**Author's Note:**

> i started this lil drabble before i finished lost light, and i finished it after , so thats why theres a lil. thrown in wink and a nod to a plot point in there !!!

“You can _ take it off?! _”

Touch-Tone was surprised by just how shocked Swerve was. It was a calm conversation, and one of them had leaned in for a kiss (as one does with the bot they love), leading him to mention he should probably remove his faceplate first. 

“Yeah?” He tilted his helm. “Did I not mention it 'til now?”

“Literally _ every single time _ I’ve kissed you before now, you haven’t mentioned it _ once. _”

He looked away shyly, his servos coming to rest tensely in his lap. “Well, we were around other bots all those times! Or, most of them -- the times we weren’t, I was just… shy, I think." Quieter, he mumbled, "I could have _sworn_ I mentioned it...”

Swerve, previous shock quickly forgotten, clambered his way onto his lap. He lifted himself up on his knees and gleefully grabbed either side of his helm, looking about as excited as the day they'd met the Necrobot. (He hadn't _been_ there, but Swerve had insisted on showing him the pictures.) 

“Well? Lemme see!”

His visor flared, and he _wanted_ to look away, but he couldn’t help leaning his helm right into Swerve’s servo.

“I… I don’t know,” he said lowly. “I’ve had it hidden for _so long_ \-- I _ literally _have attention deflectors on the part of my mask that opens up so I can eat.”

He pressed their forehelms together. His thumb soothingly rubbed his cheek.

“Hey,” he said, “you don’t have to show me. I’m totally cool with that. But I _ also _ want you to know that I love you, and you’re safe with me, and that whether or not you show me I won’t speak a _ word _about any of this to anyone. I swear on my spark.”

Touch-Tone gulped. His servo came up to cover Swerve’s and squeezed gently. “Okay, just- promise me you won’t get freaked out?”

“When you say _ that _ , then I cannot make that promise.” His brow plates drew together self-consciously, and Swerve, realizing this was not the time for those kinds of jokes, frantically continued, “Joking! Joking, it was a bad joke-- BUT! No matter what it looks like, I’m sure it’ll still look good on you! And again -- not a word about it outside of this room. My lips are _ sealed _.”

He braced himself for the worst as the mask disengaged, little pinpricks of anxiety poking at his brain like a mnemosurgeons needles. What if he had a jaw like a snake, more hinge than anything? What if it was all long needles and _ pain _in place of dentae, like those horrifying deep-sea creatures from Earth? What if he had a Getaway situation going on under there, where it wasn’t so much a mouth as an intake? What if--

It dropped beside them with a clatter that brought him out of his mounting panic. He scanned his lower face for anything out of the ordinary, but couldn’t find it, no matter how hard he squinted. He had a normal nose, normal lips, normal jaw… everything was _perfectly_ normal.

He visibly relaxed, smiling sweetly. “Now, what about _ this _cute face is supposed to freak me out? Or is there a part where you unhinge your jaw and chomp off my head?”

Touch-Tone opened his mouth in a makeshift snarl. He had the singular row of dentae, which soothed Swerve immensely, but they were all _ sharp. _Not needle-like, by any means - more like he just had a bunch of canines lined up in the same way other Cybertronians had their dentae. He remembered a post-war comedian he had seen with dentae like that, but the name slipped his mind.

“Again,” he said, lightly poking the corner of his mouth, “what about this is enough that you thought you needed to warn me? Seriously, are you gonna _eat me_ or something?”

“Because it’s usually only _Decepticons_ that have dentae like mine!” 

“And Riptide,” Swerve said, “Riptide’s got ‘em.”

"Does he?"

He paused. "...Okay, he might not, I could _totally_ be remembering wrong. But there's still enough Autobots with them!" Another pause. "I think!"

A flush came to his cheeks as the absurdity of his worry showed itself without being hurriedly explained away. 

“I hadn’t seen others with them before I put on the mask,” he sheepishly explained. “I was just... always worried people would think I was _ lying _or something, you know? And then I started this line of work, and I worried that showing my face, especially with _that_ in mind, would put me in danger.”

Swerve was silent, for a minute. And then he started laughing.

His helm clunked against his chest as he shook with giggles. Worriedly, Touch-Tone settled his servos on his upper arms.

“Swerve? Are you--”

“Okay? I’m _ so _ okay,” he laughed, “it’s just… you’ve nearly died -- we’ve _ all _ nearly died -- _ so _ many times, and you’re still worried that your _ job _ is what puts you in danger?”

He didn’t smile. Shyly, he muttered, “I… didn’t think about it much.”

He cupped his face, properly this time, as his laughter subsided. “You had more important things to worry about,” he hummed, “we all did. We all _ do _. I just find it so funny that after everything, you still found the time to worry about it. You still had that… what would you call it? That little connection - like, a grounding worry, something smaller than yourself.”

“You’re starting to sound like…” His brows knit together. “That’s funny,” he muttered. “I don’t know whose name I was going to say.”

“Whoever it was,” Swerve grinned, “they must’ve been _pretty lame_, if _I_ sound like ‘em.”

He leaned forward and let his head fall onto his shoulder. His arms wrapped loosely around his waist, then tighter, tugging him close, like he was suddenly worried something might happen to him.

“On the contrary,” he said softly. “I get the feeling they were _ incredible_. No- that they _are_ incredible."

He smiled against the metal of his shoulder.

"Just like you, Swervey.”


End file.
